


and the bible didn't mention us

by ennta



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, cathartic heresy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 17:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennta/pseuds/ennta
Summary: And though Loras was only nominally religious, and only then because he could not disregard the importance of piety to chivalry, he felt a little sad that he could stand before the Warrior and ask for the strength to shed the blood of other men, while there was no statue he could stand before to exalt in the love of a king.





	and the bible didn't mention us

 

 

 

 

> _Then Jonathan and David made a covenant,_
> 
> _because he loved him as his own soul._
> 
> _And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe_
> 
> _that was upon him, and gave it to David,_
> 
> _and his garments, even to his sword,_
> 
> _and to his bow, and to his girdle._
> 
> _1 Samuel 18:3-4_

 

Sunlight glimmered through the rich green silks of the pavillion, and the scents of earth and grass and summer refused to be stifled beneath the thick rugs laid down to make a floor. Looking up, Loras nearly thought himself in a forest, with a canopy of leaves rustling above him and making strange shadows on those standing below. Loras closed his eyes as he ran his fingers through Renly’s hair, stroking Renly’s scalp, feeling the shape of Renly’s skull. He pressed softly at Renly’s temples, knowing the crown fell heavily there, and when Renly sighed, Loras opened his eyes and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Renly’s head.

Renly sat before Loras, his feet propped up on his writing desk, a lazy smile on his face. He tilted his head back to catch Loras’s eye, his smile growing into a smirk, his lips slick with the juice of the half-eaten peach in his hand.

“Tell me, Loras,” Renly began, and pushed to his feet. He turned to face Loras, reached out a finger to tilt Loras’s face up towards his own. “What shall we pray for? Since Lady Catelyn seems insistent on my piety.”

“We shall pray for victory, Your Grace,” Loras answered, meeting Renly’s eyes.

“Shall we?” Renly hummed, walked his fingers down Loras’s jaw until he could cup Loras’s face in his palm. “I should think I’m assured of victory; perhaps there are other things I should pray for?”

Loras smiled as he leaned into Renly’s touch. “A new suit of armor? Another red-tailed hawk my brother will be loathe to part with?”

Renly stepped closer and leaned down until his breath feathered soft against Loras’s ear. “A warm mouth on my cock, perhaps? The Knight of Flowers laid out on my bed?”

“I should think you’re assured of both of those as well,” Loras whispered, closing his eyes, sliding a hand back into Renly’s hair. “And besides, which god would you entreat to grant you those wishes? We’ve no god of love.” And though Loras was only nominally religious, and only then because he could not disregard the importance of piety to chivalry, he felt a little sad that he could stand before the Warrior and ask for the strength to shed the blood of other men, while there was no statue he could stand before to exalt in the love of a king. Likewise, Renly was not averse to proclaiming faith in order to court those he believed essential to his cause, but there was no evidence of that here, no ornate icons of the Father or the Warrior or the Crone for him to pray to away from expectant eyes.

“Do we need a god of love, or just a god of fucking?” Renly wondered, his lips now hovering just above Loras’s neck.

Loras frowned and gave Renly’s hair a rough tug. “A god of love, _Your Grace,_  unless you plan on sucking your own cock.”

Renly huffed a quiet laugh and pressed a brief kiss to the soft, hidden spot where Loras’s ear met his jaw. “I’m only joking, Loras,” he murmured. “I pray to the god of love whenever I’m inside you.”

Loras rolled his eyes, because Renly was as fond of pretty words as he was of pretty things, but at the same time Loras felt a warmth in his stomach, because Renly’s silver tongue was never false when he used it on Loras’s skin.

The tentative rustle of wind against the walls of the tent matched the faltering catch and release of Loras’s pulse as Renly curled his tongue over and around the shell of Loras’s ear. Loras shivered and pulled at Renly’s hair, gently this time, until Renly pulled away enough to face him.

“I pray to the god of love whenever I kiss you,” Loras said, bidding Renly to hold his gaze. “I pray to the god of love whenever you touch me.” Loras knew his voice had gone breathy, that he sounded like a lovesick maid, but now that he had started to speak, he couldn’t seem to stop. “And he answers me, he must, because I ask that you might touch me and kiss me again, and you always do.”

Renly opened his mouth, a glint of good humor in his blue eyes, and Loras was afraid of the jest that might come out. He braced himself for it, already feeling foolish. But then Renly’s eyes softened and closed, and he leaned in to angle his face against Loras’s, to bring their lips close.

“Is it the god of love you pray to,” Renly murmured, his lips nearly but not quite touching Loras’s, “when you’re on your knees before me?”

Arousal thrummed through Loras, a hot pressure that started at the small of his back and worked its way up his spine to pound in his ears. “Perhaps I’m praying to _you_ ,” he managed.

“Mmm, I do love a good bit of blasphemy,” Renly said, and then he pressed his lips against Loras’s. He tasted like peaches. He always tasted like peaches, and Loras grabbed the front of Renly’s silk doublet in hungry fists and tugged him closer. Renly’s hands were hot on Loras’s skin, one curled along the jut of Loras’s jaw, one tangled in Loras’s curls at the nape of his neck. Renly tilted Loras’s head back and pressed his tongue between Loras’s lips, licking at his teeth, at the roof of his mouth, licking and pressing and licking and pressing in a slick, sinuous rhythm until it seemed he and Loras were breathing as one, gasping as one.

They broke away to face one another, and Loras decided he would never tire of the way Renly’s eyes grew dark and wide beneath his brows, or the way he looked at Loras as though Loras were something beautiful that Renly had to have, something he had to thoroughly own and cherish and consume with his mouth and his hands and his body. Something he had to worship.

“I love you,” Loras blurted out, unable to say anything else, and Renly growled low in the back of his throat, his eyes alight with the dull flame of desire. Then, with a smirk to match the one Renly had thrown him earlier, Loras said, “Take off your clothes for me, _Your Grace_.”

Renly raised an eyebrow but reached for the laces of his doublet all the same. “You would give orders to a king?”

“I would,” Loras confirmed. “And I would respect him all the more for following them.” He watched Renly shrug his doublet off and pull his undershirt over his head, and then Loras sank to his knees to help Renly unlace his breeches.

“Somehow I knew we’d end up here,” Renly teased, his breath hitching even as he smiled down at Loras. “All that talk of praying.”

“I’m feeling very devout,” Loras agreed. "And we have no icons to pray before." He tugged Renly’s smallclothes down with his breeches and sat back while Renly stepped out of them, then looked up at Renly through his lashes to make sure he had Renly’s attention.

Renly playfully nudged Loras’s head. “Well, go on then.”

Loras lowered his head to sink his mouth around Renly’s cock, his lips curled over his teeth, his hand working what his tongue couldn’t reach. He supposed he knew Renly’s cock as well as he knew his own; better, probably, for all the times it had been inside him. He pulled back to suck on the head, his tongue flicking into the slit, and then Renly’s hand was in his hair.

“Oh, love, that’s wonderful,” Renly breathed, and “Oh, gods be good,” and “Loras, _please_ ,” and Loras couldn’t breathe around Renly’s cock, but the weight of it in his mouth and the girth of it between his lips and the way Renly said his name--breaking it in two, syllables cracked like glass--made him moan, made him desperate for something to rub his own cock against.

Loras pulled back to breathe and looked up at Renly, his lips bruised from kisses and shiny with spit. “Does my king love me?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Your king adores you,” Renly whispered, and there was no hint of mischief in his eyes, just a sincerity that matched Loras’s own. “Your king-- _oh_ ,” as Loras took Renly deep into his mouth, swallowed around him, his hands on the back of Renly’s thighs to steady the both of them.

“Your king,” Renly panted, as Loras curled his tongue and twisted his hand, “thinks you should let him-- _oh_ \--you should let him _fuck_ you.”

Loras sat back and pretended to contemplate Renly’s request. “Is that an order, Your Grace?” He tried to look innocent enough, to play coy, and Renly laughed before dragging Loras to his feet and pushing him over to the mattress.

“I’d order you to undress yourself,” Renly murmured, crawling on top of Loras and pushing him into the furs, one hand working to find the hem of Loras’s tunic, “but I know how much you like to tease.”

Loras couldn’t help but grin as he helped Renly rid him of his clothing. “I never tease,” Loras lied. He let Renly toss his clothes unceremoniously to the floor of the pavillion, let Renly pin him to the mattress and kiss him. Renly never seemed to mind the taste of his cock in Loras’s mouth, and that made his kisses all the better, made sucking him all the better.

“Touch me?” Loras begged into the kiss, and it was only a moment before Renly’s hand was on him, working his cock slowly, almost gently.

“I can do more than touch,” Renly whispered against Loras’s mouth. He crawled down Loras’s body, kissing as he went, his breath hot on Loras’s nipples, on his stomach, on the inside of his thighs. On his cock.

Loras propped himself up on his elbows to watch his king--his _king_ \--take Loras into his mouth, and there was such power in the sight that Loras could barely stand it. His _king_ , knelt between his thighs, the mouth he used to command one hundred thousand men full of Loras’s cock, that silver tongue muted in deference. In love. Loras was so lost in the pleasure of it all that he jumped a bit when Renly slid a finger inside him. The warmth of Renly’s mouth and the way he crooked his finger made Loras curl his toes into the blankets, and if the noises he made were incoherent, he was sure the gods would understand the gist of them.

When Renly pulled away, it was only to reach for a vial of oil in one of the bedside table’s drawers, and Loras shivered with excitement, his heart racing. He lay back as Renly slicked his own fingers in oil and spread his legs so Renly could work him open.

“How do you want me?” Loras gasped, his back arching as Renly’s fingers continued to move. “On my knees, or--”

“I think I’ve already had you on your knees,” Renly whispered against Loras’s neck. “I’ll let you choose. Never let it be said”--sucking a bruise against Loras’s collar bone--“that I am not a merciful king.”

Loras whined and twisted his hips around Renly’s fingers, but Renly refused to be spurred on, even as Loras tugged roughly at his hair to drag their lips together. It was a wild kiss, hungry and punishing, but still Renly’s fingers were gentle, and Loras found himself begging into Renly’s mouth, pleading to be filled, to be _fucked_.

“You never told me how you want this,” Renly panted, sitting between Loras’s legs and slicking his cock with more of the sweet-smelling oil.

“I just want you close,” Loras managed around a deep intake of breath. “I want to kiss you. _My king_.”

Renly hitched Loras’s hips up to wrap them around his waist, and then he pushed into Loras, slowly, always so slowly at first, and Loras closed his eyes at the warm, welcome intrusion. He squeezed his eyes shut, the ache and stretch of Renly’s cock inside him the only anchor in the world. A breath later, Renly began to move, and Loras opened his eyes to watch, to take in the way Renly’s head fell helplessly forward and his long black hair swayed over his broad shoulders.

Loras tugged Renly to him until their chests touched, until their open mouths found each other then fell away then found each other again. Renly knew how to move inside Loras, how to push into Loras just _so_ and send Loras into an ecstatic freefall. And he was generous, generous enough to slide a hand between their bodies and grip Loras’s cock, generous enough to stroke it in time with the thrust of his hips.

There was nothing left to Loras but Renly: Renly’s skin pressed sweet against his skin, damp with sweat; the great, desperate shudder of Renly’s breathing; the strength of his heartbeat, of his blood coursing through him; the warmth of it all, of his cock deep inside Loras; and over Renly’s shoulder Loras could still see the sunlight, waning now, fighting through the silks of the roof. The whole world was sunlight. The whole world was summer.

Loras came with a prayer on his lips, a prayer to whatever god had given him Renly’s heart. Renly came with the soft skin of Loras’s neck between his teeth, and he bit to bruise, to mark, but not to tear.

They lay beside one another in silence, fingers intertwined, as the sunlight faded. Nothing existed beyond the pavillion; to Loras, the camp seemed muted, far away. He thought he may have drifted off to sleep, for when he woke, Renly was sat beside him on the edge of the bed, dressed in a loose sleep tunic and breeches.

“It might be best if we both bathe,” Renly suggested, reaching out to tuck a curl behind Loras’s ear. He traced Loras’s ear before sliding his hand down to rest on Loras’s flushed chest. He pressed his fingers to each of the freckles at Loras’s shoulders-- _constellations_ , he always called them, and had names for each cluster--then lightly rubbed the marks he had left on Loras’s skin with his mouth.

Loras smiled softly under Renly’s touches and stretched, his eyes still heavy. “Together, you mean?” The bath was more than large enough for two, and they had passed many evenings tangled together in it, talking and touching until the water grew cold.

Renly sat back, considering. “So long as you’re back to the vanguard by the time Lady Stark returns. But that reminds me--” He walked over to his armoire and retrieved something from the pocket of a tunic inside.

Loras sat up curiously. Renly held the object out to him, and Loras took it with a frown. It was a slim locket, delicately wrought in rose gold.

“You said you wanted to wear my favor into battle,” Renly said softly. Seriously. There was only fervor in his eyes. “You can wear this beneath your armor. If you were any other knight, perhaps I would gift you an icon of the Warrior, but as you are _my_ knight--”

Loras opened the locket and felt his chest tighten. Inside was a miniature portrait of Renly, smiling in all his noble finery, his crown of roses on his head. Looking at that smile, one would not know that Renly’s temples grew sore when he wore that crown for any long while, or that it was the Knight of Flowers who soothed the ache it left. But Loras would know.

“I thought you had this made for Margaery,” Loras whispered, closing the locket and warming it between his palms. “For your wedding.”

“I did,” Renly conceded. “But if I’m your god of love, you’d best have something to pray to.”

“To tide me over until I can get down on my knees again?” Loras raised an eyebrow fondly.

“To let you know that you will always have something to come back to, no matter how bloody the battle, or how long the war.” Pretty words on a silver tongue. True words.

Renly pressed a kiss to Loras’s forehead.

 

*

 

By the time Loras left the pavillion, the sun had set.

 

 

 

 

>   _“O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thy high places._
> 
> _I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan:_
> 
> _very pleasant hath thou been unto me:_
> 
> _thy love to me was wonderful,_
> 
> _passing the love of women.”_
> 
> _2 Samuel 1:25b-26_

 

**Author's Note:**

> [title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p62rfWxs6a8)   
>  [tumblr](http://knight-of-the-flowers.tumblr.com/)


End file.
